Author's Note

Author: Screw me; I have like 1 review so y'all must hate me and my stories. Whatever, I still like doing this. Please review? I wanna know how i'm doing honestly.

Author: So here's a chapter with Sarah and Henri! It's bad, i know-

Sarah: Yes, it truly is...

Author: BUT WHO CARES? Actually I do. *sobs at my ineptness* Also I made some mistakes from the last chapter so i'll work on that.

Fun Fact: I don't own LK but hell if I did I'd bring it back and remake it man

Chapter 4 - Bottle to the Sea

Sarah sighed for probably the hundredth time. It's been hours since she began her little search for Henri, and the sun was at high. Just where did that troublesome boy go? She thought. Looking for the young French boy grew tiresome, as it always was, and the British girl had asked plenty of kind people if they'd seen him. Over by the bakery, they said. But the baker told her he ran off to the wharf. So she went to the wharf, but so far she had not seen a single sign of him.

The girl thought it didn't make sense of Henri to go to the wharf; after all, what if that captain from before happens to be there and recognizes him? Flashes of the worst case scenarios went through her mind, and suddenly she shook her head and decided not to think about it. There was no other lead she had, so she continued to scan the docks with more determination.

"Henri, I thought Moses told you to avoid this area…" Sarah mumbled, as if planning out her reprimand once she found the boy.

The wharf was packed with merchants, travelers, and sailors unloading large, heavy boxes of goods. Numerous British soldiers in their noticeable red coats patrolled in groups, giving off their aura of authority, and perhaps causing some colonists to be tense. With such a bustling area, she could hardly concentrate. A few might have glanced her way, wondering what a young British girl is doing all by herself in a place like this. Sarah wondered the same thought.

I hope I find him soon. I want to stay here no longer.

She weaved through the many passersby, checking almost every port, and even squinting at the far sea for small rowboats he might be on (because Henri can literally be doing anything). Sarah made sure to be thorough; she searched under covered crates, behind barrels, and even asked sailors of the whereabouts of a small French boy running around, giving a full description. No one recalled seeing him.

As more time passed, Sarah started to doubt that she could locate Henri.

She almost reached the other end of the wharf, and the area was thinly populated. A part of her clung onto the last hope that Henri was still there, or else she wouldn't know where to look next.

Maybe I should check once more… Her pace slowed, and she came to a stop at the end of last dock. No one was around as far as she could tell. She didn't bother to check the boats, because at this point she was tired. Really tired.

Sarah didn't even want to think about making another round about the docks.

She returned to the main dock and sat on a crate. Facing the sea, the redhead let out a perplexed huff and placed her chin on her hand, deciding to take a rest. The sun felt nice on her back, and the wind was soothing. For a split second, her worries were lifted and she closed her eyes, embracing the peace. Her face lost the tenseness from the pensive expression she never even noticed she was wearing. The air she slowly inhaled was salty, but nonetheless fresh. Then, a breeze… Green eyes opened again.

A quick fling caught her eye, followed by a soft splash.

It startled her. At first she thought it may have been a seagull, dropping by to float among the pigeons. But then she heard another splash, and then it faded into a sound of pouring water.

She waited, straining her ears and not daring to blink.

An arm, there. Splash.

She stood up. One of the rowboats had a two small arms dangling off the rim and playing in the water.

Right, she told herself. I had not bothered to check those.

She leisurely strode to the small boat. It was rather full of boxes (no wonder she couldn't see anybody!), yet it calmly bobbed in still waters. There, she found a boy in Henri's clothes, back faced towards her. He was lazily hanging his arms and head off next to the bowsprit that pointed toward the vast ocean. Sarah stayed on the dock.

"Henri," she called, placing one hand on her hip.

The soft splashing stopped and the boy's ruffled head looked up, as if he spotted something beyond the horizon, but Henri didn't turn around to face the familiar voice. His head drooped again without another response.

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Henri Lefevbre, what are you doing here?" Sarah tried again, using her mother-like tone in hopes of gaining his attention. "Do you understand how cautious you must-" But her scolding drifted silent.

Sniff.

She watched his left arm moved and rubbed in front of his face.

Then, he turned but a few inches. "Sorry, Sarah," he said.

She was taken aback, and noticed his tone. He wasn't his happy, lively self that usually would have wanted to show her something interesting. He didn't complain about how hungry he was. Heck, she almost missed him talking about food since she hasn't seen him all day.

No, his voice too coarse and too sad and too defeated.

Sarah immediately stepped down onto the boat and was at the boy's side in a heartbeat; something was wrong and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

She peered over and saw a bunch of flowers floating on the surface. In Henri's left hand was a small glass bottle, probably the object he was using to play with the water. In his right hand was a fist of flowers – lavenders and blue peonies – and a cork.

"…Henri?" She leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the boy's face. He hid himself too late, and Sarah noticed the bruise on his cheek. She gasped, and only then did she also notice his clothes were dirtied – as if he rolled down a forest slope. "What happened to you?"

"It'z nozhing." He looked at her for a brief second, and then turned away again, embarrassed by his tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. Henri didn't want to worry her.

"You're lying," she confidently stated. "Do tell me. I hate to see you like this, and you know you will tell me eventually. Out with it."

The younger child hesitated but began, knowing it was useless to argue against Sarah, "It waz zhose stupid boys again… Zhey… Zhey made fun of me."

Her concerned face softened. "How so?"

"Zhey said zat my parents died because zhey'd razher not live with a stupid son as me," he explained. "I got angry because I knew zhat wasn't true, so pushed one of zhem. Ze rest started to beat me up, but I got away."

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I just miss zhem," he confessed. He threw another flower further than the rest. It plopped on the surface. Sarah silently watched. A few moments passed without a word.

"Why… are you doing that?" Sarah finally asked. "You're wasting such pretty flowers. It would be better if you kept them in a vase, like that bottle…" she began to reach down and retrieve some tossed flowers soaking in the salty waves. But Henri stopped her.

"Non! Leave zhem," he said.

"What's wrong?" Sarah looked over her shoulder and paused, her hand barely brushing the water. "I admit, they're beautiful flowers…"

"Zhey're for my parents."

Parents? Sarah gave a puzzling look. Now why on earth would he be putting flowers –

Right. On graves.

She mentally slapped herself.

"Oh, sorry," she awkwardly apologized, pulling back her arm. "Are those for them, too?" Henri nodded.

She thought for a moment. Maybe there was something she could do as well? How is one supposed to send greetings to the ocean? Sarah never was placed in this situation before; usually when someone she knew had passed in England, he or she would be buried on land and she would be able to place flowers by a marked tombstone.

But knowing how cruel the captain was, Henri's parents were probably tossed off of the ship they worked on, with a gigantic sea as a resting place. No tombstone to mark where they were. No way of knowing where the flowers were meant to be.

Henri knew that.

And he probably saw them get thrown overboard after their deaths, too, Sarah mused. Oh, Henri…

She sadly continued to watch him mindlessly play around with the glass bottle. He filled it up with some salt water and swished it around before pouring out the contents. Sarah was almost mesmerized, the way he messed with it; she was curious as to what Henri was thinking. At one point the bottle slipped and fell upright, and the buoyancy allowed it to float. It reminded Sarah of a message in a bottle, just like in the books about men stranded on islands, desperately trying to call for help through a method that needed a miracle. Henri even further, and grabbed the glass out.

Meanwhile, an idea popped in Sarah's head.

"How about a letter?" She suggested out loud.

"Hm?"

"A letter," the older girl repeated. "Would you like to write one? To your parents?"

This time, Henri gave a puzzled face. He didn't like writing, but didn't object. "How?"

"We write it. Then," she took the bottle from Henri's hands. "We roll it up, put it in this bottle, and let it drift into the ocean."

Henri's eyes brightened with excitement, and Sarah smiled. "Like zhose pirate stories!" The girl nodded. "Let's do it!"

Sarah took out a piece of paper and a quill from her brown leather satchel, along with an ink jar. The two moved to a crate on the small boat to use it as a table.

"Can I write it?" Henri asked.

"Of course."

The letter read something like this:

(In French)

Dear Mama and Papa,

It has been a long time since you left. I miss you very much. It makes me sad, but you are in a better place, no? Is not that what you taught me, Papa? That people go to heaven when they have to leave? I wish you did not have to go. My friends Sarah, James, Moses, and old Doctor Franklin have been so nice to me. Well, sometimes I argue with James and Sarah, and Moses says I am stubborn, but I love them a lot. Maybe later you will meet them. They are wonderful people. I like this new land of America. The British that are still here are as mean as ever. I remember Papa telling me stories about when the French had fought them for hundreds of years. Papa is right. I do not like the British. Except Sarah. Sarah is British, but she is the good kind. Are there British people in heaven? What is it like there? Is there food? Mama, save me some food when I get there! I really miss your bread! The bread here is horrible. Tell Grandma and Grandpa I said hi. I will see you later. Also, I love you very much, and I hope you are all well!

Your son,

Henri.

P.S. I am doing okay, by the way! Do not worry! I know you do that a lot, Mama.

P.S.S. I sent you flowers. They are purple for Mama's favorite color. And blue, for Papa, because Papa always wears blue!

The letter was short, and from the way Henri happily scribbled (she had never seen him so happy to write!) it must have been sweet. As Sarah rolled it, she read some of the French words and laughed. She didn't know much French, but she knew the word "food" when she saw it. Of course Henri would, she thought, chuckling.

"What?" Henri asked, offended and suspicious of the girl.

Ah, there he is again. Sarah hated to admit it, but she was relieved to see his usual attitude come back.

"Nothing, nothing." She patted his head, and Henri pouted, crossing his arms. She held her hand out expectantly, and Henri gave her the cork and the flowers. Although the flowers would not last in the bottle, Henri insisted on adding them to the little personal treasure. So she placed them inside and securely attached the rubber cork. "Here we are."

"I give you the honors," Sarah passed the bottle to the boy.

Henri smirked, promptly stood, and faced the small bowsprit. He took a step back before catapulting the object with all of his strength, reaching a greater length than what Sarah could have accomplished. It reflected the sunlight at them for a second before disappearing into the ocean. Henri placed his hands on his hips and proudly grinned back at Sarah. The girl was surprised at how far the boy could throw.

Then, before she realized it, he gave her a quick hug.

Henri jumped off the boat, causing it to sway, and Sarah was left a bit stunned by the adorable gesture. "Where are you going?"

"To ze shoppe! I'm hungry!" he complained. Sarah laughed again.

"Me too, after all this searching for you," she added. "We need to do something about those clothes first. And your bruise, okay?"

The boy groaned. "Can zhat wait?"

Sarah opened her mouth to lecture him when her own stomach growled. Loud. "Alright, you win this time. I suppose it can wait." She kept her smile and climbed onto the dock, walking alongside Henri. "And do not run off like that again! At least until we reach the print shop. I do not want to spend hours trying to find you."

"Oui, oui…"

"Henri."

"I swear!"

The two bickered as they traveled back to the print shop, with Sarah giving a full lecture that bored Henri out of his mind, and Henri giving half-hearted vows that he wouldn't disappear to do whatever he wants.

Honestly, this boy is quite something, Sarah pondered as she walked down the familiar Philadelphian streets. Henri was in the middle of listing foods he missed from France. He cannot seem to remove food from his head.

Although concerned, Sarah was happy – happy that she was able to get little Henri back to his usual self. The girl decided that she never wanted to see that sad face on the boy again; she'd be more than glad to listen to his speeches of pastries and dishes over any heart-wrenching moment.

I'll make sure it will not happen again, Sarah quietly promised, seeing the bubbly boy lost in his food fantasies.

For as long as I live, I'll make sure.

A/N: Now, readers, please don't be shy to say something. I don't care if you even send a smiley face to tell me you're there.

Like am I doing bad? No? Yes? Maybe you could help me? Or just rant about how Star Wars Rebels messed up your feels last night in the season 2 finale? Maybe even talk about that dog you adopted last week?

Nah? Okay. Cool.

Also! I do not know how to spell Henri's last name. They have a website and they don't even put in on there. I think it's mentioned in one of the episodes, but I didn't bother to check.